


Sick Day

by Camellianswer



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X
Genre: Fever, Gen, Hades Virus, Kinda, Original Character(s), Pain, Red Alert - Freeform, Red is good dad, Rookie - Freeform, Sickfic, Virus, he's antiviral but that doesn't mean it's painlesss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 06:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camellianswer/pseuds/Camellianswer
Summary: Oh no, Axl’s come down with a little bug. Well, at least he’s still alive; usually such a virus is fatal!





	Sick Day

 

Lion, a huge black Reploid with shaggy hair, made his way to the base as soon as he’d gotten the news. Failures like these were few and far between for a good unit like Red’s. He regretted not being there when his pal needed him. Now he hoped to get there before Red got into a funk, or worse, planned a solo strike to get revenge.

The kid HAD been really important to Red, so Lion was betting on revenge.

He met Red in the hallway and was relieved to find the leader of Red Alert intact. “Hey, I heard about the sting,” he began sympathetically. “That’s really rough. I had no idea those guys had viral gear. Too bad about the mission. Axl was a good kid.”

Red tilted his head slightly, confused, and paused in the doorway. “What are you talking about?” He spoke low, carefully, and Lion couldn’t detect any hints of regret or anger or even just grief in his voice.

“Uh, the failed sting? Axl got hit with a virus weapon?” For some strange reason he didn’t understand yet, Lion got the sense that the condolences he’d rehearsed were going to be useless. “I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it…”

Red finally seemed to get it. “Right, that. Yeah. Real rust of a day. Everybody’s safe, but I had to carry Axl home. He’s resting in there now, so keep your voice down.”

“Y…you’re kidding!” Had Red lost his mind? Fear jarred Lion’s systems, urging him into combat mode. “You seriously brought him home after that!”

“Yeah. So?” Red pierced Lion with his one good eye as he quietly slid the door shut behind him.

“Whaddaya mean, SO? If he got hit with a virus weapon then he’s totally Mav by now!” He glanced at the door warily, expecting a rabid Reploid to come charging out any second. “Red, we gotta get him out of here before he crashes the whole place!”

Red crossed his arms with annoyance, his composure nearing boredom. “Do you know what he got in his system?” He asked, enunciating each word sharply.

“No, I don’t. Why? What virus is it?”

The one-eyed vigilante bit out the word like it hurt. “The Hades Virus.”

Lion had the face of someone struck by a plasma bolt. “You’re kidding!” A long silence assured him that his leader was most certainly serious. He own face darkened regretfully. “Scrap, that’s…” Then a thought hit him and his eyes widened. “But hey, the Hades Virus is fatal! Like, instant lights-out. Without fail!”

“I know that. But he’s still fighting.” He hooked a finger behind him, lips pressed thin with worry but something like pride in his eyes. “Kept on his feet for fifteen minutes after the dose. He’s supposed to be an antiviral model. I thought that was a load of bolts at first but now…I’m thinking he’s going to pull through just fine.”

“If you say so, boss.” Lion looked back at the door once more and shook his head. “Poor kid’s gonna have a frag of a time till then.”

 

* * *

 

 

At that moment, Axl was, as Lion so brusquely put it, having a ‘frag of a time.’

He’d been barely conscious on the way home, and now that he was cursed with wakefulness he wished he could go back under.

Axl lay on a mattress of stacked tarps and blankets; a better bed than what he usually got, but at the moment it was only a tiny comfort. His slight frame trembled feverishly. Heat radiated off his body, which had reached an internal temperature of 120 f and was still climbing, despite the fact that he was panting heavily in an automatic attempt to cool down. Blinding pain snapped up and down his limbs, so bad he would cry out weakly each time. He’d first been lying on on his back, then ended up on his front after rolling back and forth. Finally Axl wrapped his arms around his middle and curled into a tight, shaking ball of agony.

A frag of a time, indeed.

His only consolation was that he wasn’t gonna die. Or go Maverick. Most of this pain meant that his immune system was doing its job, ripping the virus to shreds and cleaning out his body. That was good, but it didn’t feel good. It felt like he was being pumped full of acid while swimming in a lava pit with a spike through his stomach.

The worst of the pain came in waves. Every time it ebbed, he got about five seconds of relief before it came back again, maybe even worse than before. Eventually even the moments of relief were dulled because he knew it was just gonna hurt again as soon as he got used to it.

Axl groaned hollowly and turned over again. The pain wouldn’t let him go to sleep. He had to lie here and take it, endure it for who knew how long, maybe it would hurt forever. That thought made him groan again. He had to take his mind off this. Try and think of something else. But his thoughts kept drifting back to the sting that had gone so horribly, terribly wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d been hired to break up a big gun-running deal that was going down that day across town. Rival gang nonsense, the sort of thing that was Red Alert’s specialty. The job paid big, and had the added bonus of keeping competitors off R.A. turf.

As usual, Red took just Axl with him, and they staked out the drop point. After a few hours of tense waiting – Axl was getting better at the whole quiet-waiting thing – the targets appeared.

Then came the good stuff – fighting!

Axl would make a diversion, Red would comprise a one-man frontal assault, and Axl would sneak in and destroy the new weaponry the targets had just acquired. It sounded easy.

Then – Red got hurt. Not bad, but enough to knock him down. Axl saw it from where he was wrecking guns and EMP bombs and nameless gadgets. As happened sometimes, time slowed and he took in the scene piece by piece. Red on his knees but still swinging his scythe at a stocky Reploid. A yellow-striped goon on his blind side, crouched in the shadows near the side of the building. An open case beside him, special packing material spilled out on the ground in neon strands like toxic waste. The contents of that case were now in the yellow goon’s hands, brought up, telescopic sight fixed on Red’s back.

Time…

There wasn’t any.

The moment between stimulus and response was practically nonexistent. Axl saw the danger, saw that he was close enough, that this might be his only chance, and reacted instantly. He leaped straight at the goon. Without internal weapons systems, all he could do was pin him to the ground until Red regained his feet. So he did. He clung to the guy with his arms and legs with the tenacity of a crocodile. The yellow-striped goon wouldn’t stop squirming and trying to get him off. Axl swung his head so the sharp point of his helmet gouged into the goon’s face. His opponent yelled with pain and jerked up suddenly.

That was how he accidently pulled the trigger.

Axl felt a devastating wave of some kind of data blast tear through his systems. Ripples of white-hot electricity danced over his body and he gasped involuntarily. Something bad, something really really bad had just happened. His eyes wanted to fall shut, take him down into darkness, but he didn’t let himself fall. Pushing past whatever damage that mysterious wave had done to him, he surged forward and knocked the goon back against the cement. The Reploid’s head made a satisfying CRAK on the ground and the display for his eyes glitched out briefly. He kept struggling, but Axl hooked an arm around his opponent’s throat and pulled hard. The hard edge of his armor bit into the myriad pipes and wires housed under the synthflesh.

The Reploid made a few choking, grinding noises as his internal systems were crushed by the clinging death on his back. The blow to the head was taking its toll as well, trying to force him into emergency shutdown. Try as he would to resist it, darkness closed around his vision, framed by a multitude of error notifications, until it all went black.

Axl didn’t let go. A slow, creeping paralysis had come over his limbs, cold and sharp like the impact of the mysterious weapon from before. It was a horrible, irresistible aftereffect, but he resisted anyways. The only thing left in his mind was an overriding need to protect Red. From what, he’d forgotten, and how to do it was unknown too. Just…do it, somehow, stay awake, don’t go under…

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime later, a voice cut through the clinging oblivion. “Axl. Axl!” He recognized Red’s voice and tried to move but was unsuccessful.

“Axl, come on. We gotta get out of here.” Red felt cold worry build up in his chest when the young Reploid didn’t respond. He pushed the guy Axl was straddling up to a sitting position and prodded Axl’s shoulder. “Kid, come on!”

Axl opened his eyes and a blurry image of Red swam into view. He couldn’t get any words out. His body felt paralyzed and he had no idea where his legs were, or if he even still had legs. Dizziness attacked his head and nausea attacked his stomach and he just wanted to sleep it off.

Red had to manually disentangle Axl from the goon, pulling his arm out from around his neck. When he helped Axl up, the other guy fell back to the ground. Red figured he was either dead or about to be, and Axl looked little better. He stumbled forward stiffly, needing Red’s help to stand up. “You okay? Talk to me. Axl.” Even hearing how concerned Red was didn’t loosen his tongue. He really couldn’t speak. If he was able to, he’d probably be screaming now that the pain was coming back. He made a huge effort and nodded his head and made a weak thumbs-up even though he did not feel okay in the least.

“Great, great. Let’s go. Hurry.” He pushed Axl to keep up with him as they made for the darkened edges of the square.

What little he remembered of the trip back was like a foggy dream. He was doing his best to keep from lagging behind, feeling as though he’d left his gyros miles away. Powerful determination he didn’t know he had kept him going, one foot in front of the other, for what felt like hours before something happened. Like flipping a switch, he lost consciousness and crashed down. He didn’t open his eyes again until they’d gotten back home.

Axl regained consciousness, feeling like a brittle shell of a humanoid pumped full of boiling acid. He realized that Red was laying him down on a makeshift bed, his features drawn tight in worry.

Then his vision was shattered, and Axl again plunged into the suffering that showed no signs of ebbing. He groaned loudly, an entirely inadequate expression of this stabbing agony. “Gah…Red…I’m dying here…”

“You’re not going to offline, so calm down,” Red said soothingly. “Just lie still. You got hit with a virus weapon. But you’re antiviral, so it’ll wear off soon. Rest.” Then he’d left.

Axl didn’t need Red to tell him that he was antiviral. He knew that. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. Something about how his mind reacted to the slightest input of malware. His programming shifted constantly, like a chameleon, making it impossible for the virus to find a good hold in his head. The rapid protection flux made him confused and irritable, but hey, it was better than going Mav. He’d seen a guy go Mav once. He still had dreams about it sometimes.

So, he wasn’t gonna die, and he wasn’t gonna go Mav, but it still hurt like frag.

Internal temperature alarms were off the scale but he couldn’t care less at this point. Enough pain makes nothing else matter at all. With this jolting sting still snapping up and down his body, he thought he wouldn’t care if a plasma saber was stuck through his middle. It probably wouldn’t hurt more than this. And it would at least go away eventually, when he got repaired or offlined, but this wasn’t going away, maybe not ever.

He didn’t need to worry about that, because in the end he began to finally, finally doze off.

Red checked up on him a few minutes later. He assessed Axl’s condition and made a sharp, disapproving sound upon noticing the temperature. 140 f. “You’re way overheated, kid.”

Axl just moaned. He had almost fallen asleep before Red had decided to bother him. Now the throbbing ache came again, and he’d have to deal with it. Why couldn’t Red just let him sleep? He heard the door shut again, sending bolts of pain through his head, but at least it meant he was alone in peace again. Now if he could just…

The door slid open, dashing his hopes. Every little noise hurt his aural cones and just made the experience more unbearable. He let another weak whine escape his throat, wishing that Red would get the picture and leave him alone.

Something cool was pressed against his mouth, which was the first almost-good-feeling thing in ages, and he heard Red say “Drink it, Axl. You gotta cool down.”

He took a careful sip and made a face as it went down hissing against his overheated throat. It was just plain water, but for whatever reason now it tasted simply awful. He twisted his head to the side, coughing steam, and groaned “No more.”

Red tried pressing it to the prototype’s lips again. “Come on, drink up. Hey. Axl.” He used the ‘dad voice.’ “Axl you will finish this water right NOW or you’ll cool off in the river!”

That got no response whatsoever. And Axl hated swimming as much as a cat did. Indeed, his spiky hair and grumpiness after a dousing was almost uncannily feline. But he ignored Red’s threats, trying to make himself go into hibernation. He felt Red grab his shoulder and give it a good shake, throwing off his already-swirling gyros, and groaned again. “No, it’s yucky. Lemme sleep.”

Red gazed at him with a worried frown. Then he finally left.

Axl tried again to sleep, unaware or uncaring that he was close to frying his own circuits with his body heat. Whatever, it didn’t matter, just sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Lion raised an eyebrow at the sight of Red carrying a small case of juice boxes to the sickroom. “You’re spoiling the bot, you softie,” he declared.

“Shut up.” Red disappeared into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Axl had rejected the water but to Red’s relief he WOULD take fruit punch. He downed two cupfuls with dazed enjoyment, coughing pink steam intermittently, and Red could only hope that the sugary sludge wouldn’t leave a residue in the kid’s pipes. Frankly, he was amazed that even humans could process this stuff. It looked more like nuclear waste than a soft drink. But if it would bring down Axl’s temperature, he couldn’t complain.

After drinking a little more punch, Axl’s breathing sounded better, less broken-fans-on-overdrive and more natural. From the quick scan Red took, Axl’s body heat had dropped considerably. To his great relief, it was at 111 f now. Red sighed heavily and tossed away a crumpled juice box. “Just rest now, Axl,” he said softly. “I’ll check on you later.”

He made a low noise of ambiguous meaning as Red left. Amazingly, he felt a little better. His head wasn’t pounding so hard, and the agony was starting to ebb away. Even better, the coveted drowsiness was returning. Finally, he slipped into hibernation, and all of the pain and worry melted away as he sank into velvety darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Axl’s eyes opened again long after the sun had set. He felt lightheaded and weak, but the worst was over. He lay like that for a minute, unable to believe that the pain was gone. The dizzying antivirus had done its job and quieted down. A small smile touched his face as relief washed over him. It felt so GOOD to be free of that stuff.

He sat up carefully, half-expecting to go crashing down again, but his arms were steady. He looked around and took a deep breath, sending cool, refreshing air through his systems and making him feel more wide-awake. And he realized how hungry he was. How long had it been since he’d had something to eat? Felt like weeks.

His gaze landed on the case of juice boxes. Right, Red had given him some of those while he was overheating. Nobody else in the base really liked fruit drinks so he might as well finish them, he reasoned, knowing full well that Red probably wouldn’t approve of him guzzling the remaining twenty boxes. Well, it’s only a crime if you get caught! Axl grabbed two boxes and settled against the wall to ‘recuperate.’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken care of a LOT of sick kids in my time. Fruit punch and plenty of rest always does the trick. Apparently it works for Reploids too? 
> 
> In my canon, most Reploids process organics. Some do it better than others. For example, eating food makes Red pretty sick, while Axl can (and usually does) pack a ton away.
> 
> I also wanted to explore the effects of viruses on an immune Reploid. Axl can’t succumb to a virus, e.g., go Maverick, but I imagine it won’t feel good while his system tries to shake it off. It won’t ever be this bad on him again, however; his antivirus adjusted to the invasion and was strengthened, but viruses will never leave him unfazed. Stories need conflict, difficulty. Axl can’t just be totally unaffected by viruses. That’s the Superman effect. Invulnerability is fatal to a good story. Well, except for One Punch Man….


End file.
